Moving On
by BananaLoaf
Summary: A sequel to 'Charline', working through my own version of Series 2. Please read Charline first, or you won't follow this at all! :) Major spoilers ahead!
1. Chapter 1

D'Artagnan realised that she had been stupidly gaping at Treville for the last few minutes and clamped her mouth shut with a light squeal that she quickly covered with a cough. She felt Porthos chuckling beside her and refrained from elbowing him in the ribs. They were supposed to be looking serious and forlorn after all, she supposed.

"Show some decorum, if you please, d'Artagnan," Aramis murmured to her from her other side. She tried not to roll her eyes, and then fought to contain her smile as she felt Athos move behind her and punch Aramis lightly in the back.

"Eyes forward, mouths shut," he whispered behind them. There was a smile in the menacing tone of his voice.

She wanted to turn round and ask all of them how they could be so calm, how they could remain the soldiers they had always been when their captain was standing in front of them relaying the news he just had. She had thought, _they_ must have thought, that it would be years before this suggestion of peace was relayed to them.

She was back to gaping.

A moment later she realised that Treville had stopped addressing his troops and had disappeared into his office. The musketeers lined up in the yard had lowered their eyes from the balcony and were now talking animatedly around her. Now what? She had no idea what to do.

Luckily someone else seemed to. Porthos and Aramis both moved away from her and headed straight forward to their usual table, while a hand was pressed to her back and she was propelled forward to follow them. She slid into her seat at the back, Athos climbing in next to her. It had taken her an absurdly long time to realise that he always sat facing the yard, never trusting that they were safe. She supposed she had just been distracted enough by his presence to notice much else.

His thigh pressed tightly against hers and she dropped her hand below the table, grabbing for his and squeezing it tightly. She grinned at him happily, barely noticing that for once Aramis didn't point out how obvious it was that both of their hands had disappeared, and any musketeer worth their salt would think something was weird about it. Glancing around the yard, d'Artagnan realised that today she could have sat on Athos' lap and it was unlikely that anyone would notice. The few men who were still in the yard were huddled in small groups , no doubt having similar conversations to the one they were about to have.

"So..." Porthos began.

"Indeed," Aramis agreed with a smile.

D'Artagnan grinned at both of them, then lifted the cup of wine that was still sitting where she had left it when Treville had called them all to attention in the yard, barely half an hour after he had returned from a summons to the palace that morning. She motioned quickly that the others should do the same, and soon all four had raised their glasses, gathering them in the air above the middle of their table

"May he rest in peace, the miserable bastard," Porthos said grandly, with a quick wink.

"Miserable bastard," they all echoed, cups briefly clinking together before they drank a toast to the death of their nemesis.

They sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in their thoughts of what this could mean for all of them. Charline was the first to ask the question.

"What is the King going to do without Richelieu?"

"I don't know," Aramis sighed. "Make a decision for himself?"

Porthos snorted. "Have you met him?"

"I know, I know. Ridiculous suggestion."

"I imagine he'll get a new adviser," Athos drawled, removing his hand from d'Artagnan's with a final stroke of his thumb across her knuckles and laying it on the table, as a boy from the kitchens approached to offer them some food.

"Oh God," Aramis' head dropped to the table, causing the boy to jump as he placed a pot on the table before scurrying quickly away. "What if the new one is worse?"

"Worse?" Porthos spluttered through the wine he was in the process of swallowing. "How the hell could anyone be worse?"

"Oh, I don't know," Charline said dryly. "I think we've met a few people since I arrived here that you could say were worse than him."

"Maybe," Porthos agreed. "But we got the better of everyone but that bastard."

"True," Charline grinned, standing to ladle stew from the pot into their waiting bowls.

"Still," Athos said quietly. "Better the devil you know..."

Aramis rolled his eyes at him. "Ever the cheery soldier, eh, Athos?"

Athos raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't think I'm mistaken in pointing out that you actually said it first, Aramis."

"Perhaps, but I listened to little d'Artagnan here, and cheered up a bit!"

Charline froze in the middle of handing a bowl of food to him. "Sorry, who?"

Aramis raised his hand and took hold of the no-longer-offered crockery. "Um, clever d'Artagnan? Masterful d'Artagnan?"

She rolled her eyes and thrust the bowl sharply into him.

"Hey! You nearly spilled that!"

"Oh shush. You're lucky I didn't pour it into your lap after this morning." She glared at both him and Porthos, who both replied to it with a grin.

"We told you, d'Artagnan," Porthos said quietly, "You're far too clean when you come down here in the mornings."

"A little dirt never hurt anyone," Aramis chimed in, nodding at the splatters of dried in mud that still graced Charline's cheek and her jacket. The mud that had dried onto her trousers was thankfully beyond his vision. "And besides, a dirty face hides the lack of beard rather well."

She kept glaring at both of them as they began to chuckle at her, then turned and gaped at Athos as he joined in.

"What?" he asked, smiling innocently.

"You're backing them up?" she said incredulously. "They attacked me!"

"Tackled, d'Artagnan, tackled," Porthos interjected.

"Think of it as part of your training," Athos grinned.

"And we'll just think of the expression on your face as we grabbed you as one of the funniest things we've seen in some time," Aramis toasted her with his wine, then all three of them started laughing properly.

"I hate you all," she grumbled, digging into her food and doing her best to ignore the impressions of her as she fell into the mud, no – was _thrown_ into the mud, that Aramis was doing across the table. She was going to get them back for this one, absolutely. She wasn't particularly a morning person to begin with, but to arrive yawning into the yard and be instantly tackled to the ground by two overgrown children was not quite the way she had imagined being brought fully awake.

For that she had planned a little stolen time in the stables with a certain brooding musketeer. Who was now laughing at her, and so who was also going to be experiencing the repercussions of this little escapade.

"Athos, Aramis, Porthos," Treville called from above them, causing them to quieten down instantly. "D'Artagnan too, get up here."

Charline gave them one final glare before climbing out from her seat to mount the stairs to the captain's office, not waiting for any of them. She knew fine well that huffing about it wasn't going to stop them laughing any time soon, but huffs were not something she had ever been able to avoid when she was annoyed. More's the pity.

Despite the summons, she paused to knock on Treville's door before opening it to enter the room. He was seated at his desk; his favourite position when dealing with the four of them. She supposed it gave him a sense of some control, which was never easy when conversing with Aramis and Porthos, or herself and Athos if she was entirely honest. She sometimes wondered if the captain at all regretted his close relationship with the four of them. For all they always followed his orders with little question, that didn't mean they didn't give him a good few headaches along the way.

Treville looked up as she entered and just raised an eyebrow in question.

"They're on their way," she said, flushing slightly. He would work out instantly that they had been teasing her, of course.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard footsteps behind her, heralding the arrival of her three musketeers. A second later she was grabbed round the shoulder by Aramis' arm and squeezed tightly while he laughed gently and pressed a kiss to her temple. She shoved him off, but grinned at his exaggerated look of hurt.

"Are we finished?" the captain asked dryly.

"Sir," Aramis said, nodding as he fell into place with a little more distance between him and d'Artagnan. The captain just shook his head.

"Well, as you know Richelieu died this morning," he began.

"Yes, sir," Porthos said, smiling.

"And may he settle well in his proper place," Athos said, his face giving away nothing when Charline glanced round at him.

Treville clearly took his meaning, but his facial expression didn't change at all, either in agreement or censure. "Indeed, Athos. Indeed. Now, the King has already called for a state funeral to be organised, which will take place a week from Sunday..."

Aramis groaned. "Please tell me he's not asked for all musketeers in attendance?"

The captain smiled. "The musketeers will of course be represented, Aramis. And I had a good mind to make you four go, but alas the King has another request that needs to be fulfilled, and I thought your time might be better spent elsewhere."

"You see, Porthos?" Aramis grinned. "I knew the captain loved us."

"As if I ever doubted it, Aramis."

"Perhaps Captain Treville is just saving himself the hassle of having you two there when he will have to go himself," Athos pointed out.

"And you two?"

Athos just shrugged, but Charline knew the answer. The captain had to attend, but after the events of the previous few months there was no way he would ask them to go and pretend to mourn for that man, any of them.

"This is not an easy task, but there is no one else I would trust with this job. You must leave as soon as you're organised."

"For where?" Charline asked, intrigued. It was difficult to keep the excitement from her voice, although she tried as Athos had stiffened beside her at Treville's suggestion of danger in their mission.

"Spain," Treville said. "The King has asked that we fetch the Comte de Rochefort, one of the cardinal's men, and bring him to Paris."

"Why does he need fetching?" Porthos asked.

"Because he escaped from prison. He's a wanted man, but the King says it is vital he is brought safely to Paris. Your instructions," Treville stood from behind his desk, holding out a rolled up length of parchment, which Athos automatically stepped forward to retrieve. "You'll leave first thing in the morning. Be ready."

They took their captain's words as the dismissal it was and left his office quickly, d'Artganan practically bouncing down the stairs and back to her seat.

"Cheered up then?" Porthos asked, grinning at her as he sat back down on the opposite side of the table. Aramis followed him as Athos sat back down beside her, already frowning at the paper he had been given.

She tried to snap her facial expression back into a glare, but it just didn't work. "Absolutely," she admitted. "Actually getting out of Paris? It's been driving me mad!"

Since the removal of Milady de Winter from their lives, and the extended time it had taken for her to recover from the whole ordeal, Charline hadn't been allowed to do any work that was considered too risky, or that would take her out of the city. She wasn't entirely sure whether Athos or Captain Treville should be thanked for this lock down, but she had certainly argued with Athos about it on a number of occasions on the last couple of months. She did not need to be mollycoddled, despite what the (now rare) nightmares may have suggested.

Oh well. The captain had obviously decided that her incarceration was over, and she was not going to let a concerned Athos stop her from enjoying it. However sullen and silent he may become.

"Well?" Aramis asked.

Athos sighed. "It could be fairly straightforward..."

"But...?" Porthos asked.

"But I know of the Comte de Rochefort, and I don't think anything will be straightforward with him."

"Oh good," said Charline, grinning.

Athos just sighed quietly beside her.

"Come on then," Aramis said as he pulled himself up from the table. "We've time for some training for a couple of hours before we head home."

Charline got up eagerly to join him and soon she was sparring confidently with him, with Porthos calling instructions from the sidelines. She noticed that Athos had moved out from his seat and walked round the table to lean against it and watch. She could feel his eyes burning into her and it made her squirm pleasantly, but she forced herself not to focus on it and concentrated on getting the better of Aramis.

They trained her thoroughly; swapping in and out to push her to limits they hadn't tried to since she'd left the sickroom two months previously. Quickly, d'Artagnan realised that they were doing this for Athos' benefit; to show him that she was ready to be doing things slightly more dangerous than royal guard duty, and basic missions. She was grateful, and it pushed her to keep going until all three of them were a sweaty mess.

"Enough," Athos said, eventually. "We're done for today."

D'Artagnan let her arm drop with relief, rolling her shoulders to stop the muscles tensing before she had a chance to wash properly and soothe them. She moved to slump against the table by Athos' side, not caring what she must look like with her face scarlet and her hair plastered to her face and head. She noted gladly that Athos' tension had waned somewhat, and she doubted that they were going to have an argument that day about whether she was ready. Not that she was convinced it wouldn't happen later instead.

Aramis and Porthos sheathed their swords and used their empty wine cups to help themselves to the water from the trough in the training yard that was always kept full for sparring musketeers. Thirst sated, they took their leave, announcing their intent to retire to their beds straight after supper.

Charline and Athos both snorted at the same time.

"Well, perhaps we'll find time for a drink or two," Porthos grinned.

"Just don't be late," Athos warned, although he knew it wasn't needed. Tipping their hats with a grin, the two of them headed towards the gate. Athos turned towards d'Artagnan and opened his mouth to speak, but d'Artagnan halted him with a raise of her hand and snuck quietly behind them to hover at the gate and watch them make their way down the street.

Her eyes widened gleefully a moment or two later when they paused at the approach of three young ladies, pulling their hats off swiftly as they began to do their best to impress them. Charline quickly slipped from the gateway and headed up the street, keeping to the shadows of the buildings as she approached. She stopped a few steps away, pausing to see if either musketeer noticed they were under surveillance. Nothing. How easily they were distracted by a pretty face.

Aramis was the unlucky one. He was closest to the large patch of mud that had been left by the morning's rain, and with his current distraction it was the work of a moment to place her sword in front of his legs as she ran the few paces and barrelled into him, knocking his knee out of lock and sending him sprawling into the mud. Luckily, the three ladies saw her coming and jumped out of the way of the splattering mud in the final second of his spectacular fall.

Porthos stared at his friend starfished in the mud for a moment before he burst into deep and loud laughter, looking over his shoulder to see Charline with her hands braced on her knees as tears of laughter ran down her face. Aramis pulled himself up to a sitting position and glared at her in fury, while the ladies quickly vanished behind him.

"You little...!" he growled.

"Now, now," she laughed. "Don't get huffy Aramis; just think of it as part of your training!" She folded her arms and raised an amused eyebrow at him until he shook his head, smiling. He reached up for her hand to pull himself up, but she took a step back. She was not that stupid. Mock-frowning at her he clambered to his feet, his arms held out by his sides as he looked in dismay at the mud that was dripping off of him.

"Bye!" Charline said cheerfully, waving innocently before she started jogging away. "Oh, and Porthos?"

He looked up at her, tears of mirth running down his face.

"I don't know what you're laughing at – this just means that your payback is still to come!" she saluted him as his mouth dropped and Aramis started laughing, then ran back to the gates, surprised to find Athos leaning against them with a smile on his face as he watched her approach.

"Feel better?" he grinned.

"Much," she nodded. "Now I'm going to go and get out of my own dirty clothes. I wonder if I should ask for hot water for a proper bath? I might have mud dried onto my skin to. Who knows. "

He raised an eyebrow at her, smiling hopefully.

"Now, didn't you say we needed to take it easy tonight?" she asked, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "I think I better just get myself something quick to eat, and get undressed and go straight to bed. You, I think, should probably get yourself home. Shame I can't get one of the stable boys to scrub my back. Oh well, I'll just have to do what I can. I really can't wait to take these bindings off though, they're feeling rather tight today."

She started to walk away, hearing him growl a little behind her. She laughed lightly as she walked over to their table, aiming to pick up what she had dared to remove of her outfit in the heat of her training, and the dagger and pistol she had left there. As she lifted them up she felt Athos march behind her over towards the stables. She looked after him in puzzlement, until one of the young stable boys came out and walked over to her.

"Athos says you've to help him in the stables, sir," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes in his nervousness.

"And what are you to do?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I've to have a break and go and get some dinner from the kitchens," he said, smiling a little but still not looking her in the eyes.

"Well, best be off then, eh?" she watched as the boy scampered off to the kitchens, excited at getting an extra meal into him for the day, then looked over to the stables and narrowed her eyes. Athos knew fine well that if he summoned her in the barracks she had to obey; she wasn't a musketeer after all.

She put her things back down on one of the benches and walked briskly over to the stable doors. "Athos?" she called. No answer.

She stepped inside and paused to let her eyes adjust to the murkiness. She walked into the darkness, peering into the stalls as she passed but seeing no sign of Athos.

She jumped as hands reached round her from behind, sliding to hold tightly around her waist as a face buried itself into her shoulder and lips pressed gently against her neck. She sighed and tilted her head to one side, giving Athos more access.

"Are you really going to send me home alone tonight?" he asked softly, his lips trailing down her jaw line in a series of little kisses.

"Yes," she breathed, refusing to give in, but closing her eyes to the sensation of his lips on her neck again.

"Are you sure?" he murmured, his hands separating as one trailed up to rest against the bandages that kept her breasts away from him, and the other skimming downwards, passing by where she suddenly desperately wanted him to touch her and squeezing her thigh gently.

"Yes," she gasped, her stubbornness and her desire suddenly fiercely at war with each other.

"Really?" he asked, letting go of her suddenly. She felt a rush of loss before he suddenly grabbed her arms and spun her on the spot. He grinned briefly at her before burying his hands in her hair and bringing her face to his. He sought her lips in a burning kiss, full of desire and need, and d'Artagnan found herself instantly breathless. Her knees trembled as they opened their mouths simultaneously and he walked her backwards until her back was against the wall of the stables and his body was pressed tightly against her. She was gasping when they finally broke apart and he grinned at her through his own heavy breaths. "You still sure?"

"You fight dirty Athos," she tried to frown at him.

"That was the idea," he grinned, kissing her briefly again.

Untangling her hands from where they were tightly wound around his neck, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. She walked past him and headed towards the door, leaving him gaping stupidly behind her.

She paused a few steps by the door, keeping them hidden for a few moments more. "I still want that bath," she called over her shoulder. "And if you make yourself useful I may decide to stay."

He chuckled behind her, then walked quickly up behind her. He kissed the back of her neck then whispered in her ear. "Oh, I think you'll find I can be very useful, d'Artagnan."

He strode past her and out the door. When she got her breath back and emerged from the stables a few moments later, he was waiting patiently by their table, her belongings in his hands. She walked over and took them from him, putting her jacket back on and securing her weapons. The yard was empty, but they still didn't talk about their plans. Instead they simultaneously began walking towards the gate and turned to the left to head towards Athos' apartments.

Charline's whole body was tense with impatience as she waited to be alone with him. Suddenly, the promise of a new adventure tomorrow wasn't the most exciting thing was happening to her.

Glancing to the side, she saw the Athos was watching her. When she caught his eye he winked slowly and she caught her breath and their pace quickened. Adventures could wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N Sorry! I really didn't think the second chapter would take so long, or I wouldn't have posted the first when I did! Hopefully I'll keep on top of it a little more._

_So, yes, I bowed to pressure and started a sequel! I have no idea where I'll take this, and I imagine series two will shape a lot of it, but it should be fun!_

_For those of you who have already reviewed, favourited and followed thank you so much! Please keep your reviews coming – it's the only way I know that you guys are happy with what I'm doing._

_Anyway, here goes..._

**Chapter 2**

Charline was really rather disappointed. Other than a scuffle on a hill after stopping what turned out to be the Comte himself from being lynched, and chasing him down for all of ten minutes after he stole Athos' horse, there was very little of any measurable amount of danger faced on their entire mission.

Now, they had just returned to Paris and had been sent almost straight to the palace so that Rochefort could be received by the King and Queen. Rather bored of the conversation that was taking place in the chamber they were standing around in, d'Artagnan was amusing herself by remembering the only part of their almost two-week mission that she'd enjoyed; a ten minute ride with Athos pressed tightly against her as they had shared her horse on their way to reclaim his. It had been the only time in all their days away from Paris that Athos had been free to touch her, especially with Rochefort in their company on the way back. Now, she stood re-imagining the warmth of Athos' arms around her middle, and dreaming of the freedom to share in his warmth in the night ahead, all being well.

She was suddenly snapped out of her reverie as the Spanish ambassador crashed to the floor at the front of the room, and she realised with amazement that Rochefort had just punched the man, in front of everyone – including the King! It seemed like everyone in the room tensed at the same time, and then the King stepped forward and laughingly shook Rochefort by the hand, before they left the room together. The Queen followed shortly afterwards, moving into a different chamber, and the remaining occupants of the room fell into various conversations.

"I still don't trust him," Aramis announced as they waited to be dismissed.

"No, I don't either," Athos agreed.

"It was a good punch though," Porthos conceded, which the others gave a nod or a grunt of agreement with.

"How long until we can go, do you think?" Charline asked.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Aramis asked, with an expression of mocking shock on his face.

"I think we all have somewhere better than here to be," she grumbled.

"Absolutely," Athos said quietly. When she looked at him he was grinning, and she returned his smile just as Aramis and Porthos noticed and rolled their eyes at the pair of them.

"Oh give it a rest, for the love of God," Porthos groaned. "You'll be home soon enough."

"Jealousy is a curse, Porthos," d'Artagnan laughed lightly, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"No thanks," Porthos shrugged. Charline looked at him, not quite sure whether or not to be offended. "Athos has really cold feet. Absolute nightmare," he deadpanned quietly, with a shudder for effect.

Charline burst out laughing, while Athos made a token protest, and Aramis slapped his best friend on the shoulder. "You're absolutely right, Porthos. But at least he doesn't try to go for a wander during the night," he said.

"That was one time!" Porthos protested loudly, causing a few of the others in the room to look round at them. He lowered his voice. "And I wasn't asleep, I told you both that."

"You were asleep," said Athos. "Otherwise why were you trying to wrap your cloak around that tree to keep it warm?"

D'Artagnan snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. "When was this?"

"About four years ago," Aramis grinned. "It was a winter mission up north. I drew the short straw and had to share my tent with him when it rained for four days straight and we gave up trying to shelter under branches of big trees."

"One time," Porthos hissed.

They stopped the laughter when a steward came in and dismissed them.

"Finally," Charline breathed, then turned and led the way out of the room. No one else followed them out the same door, and soon the four of them were making their way companionably down a corridor, still laughing at an increasingly frustrated Porthos. The group paused momentarily as they rounded a corner and almost walked straight into Constance and her husband. The woman's eyes lit up as she saw them, and Athos quickly wrapped an arm around Bonacieux's shoulder, leading him away with a loud conversation about cloth, which Aramis and Porthos quickly joined in.

As soon as they were alone the two women smiled happily at each other. "I can't believe this whole charade is necessary," d'Artagnan commented. "If he only knew the truth!"

"I know," Constance giggled. "But he's still convinced we are having an affair when I spent so much time after...when you were recovering."

"Well, this won't help," Charline pointed out dryly, as they began to walk slowly after the others.

"Probably not. But then neither will you getting me a place here at the palace!"

"Oh," Charline said. "Should I not have? I thought it would be a good position for you, so I mentioned you to the Queen."

Constance sighed. "It will be fine. But she mentioned you, and now Bonacieux is going to be more convinced of an affair than ever!"

"Oh well," Charline shrugged. "He will my help my cover, if nothing else."

They shared a smile, then Constance briefly pulled her in for a hug. "I better go and catch up with him."

Charline nodded. "I'll see you soon."

With a smile and a quick wave, Constance pattered off after Bonacieux, with Charline following at a more sedate pace. On reaching the bottom of the stairs she noticed that Athos and Aramis were talking quietly alone and almost turned to walk over to them, but by the looks on both of their faces it was not a happy conversation so, puzzled, she continued outside and found Porthos waving off the dressmaker and his wife.

"Where are the other two?" Porthos asked her.

"What?"

"I didn't realise they weren't behind me until I found myself out here, caught up in a conversation about linens," he said, looking rather sour about being left alone with Bonacieux the bore.

"Oh," d'Artagnan was surprised that Porthos didn't know what was going on either, and found that this just made her more suspicious, and nervous, about what she had witnessed. "They're just coming, I think."

She wasn't wrong. Seconds later the two of them appeared outside, making an excuse about speaking to a steward. Before she had a chance to ask, Aramis loudly announced that it was time for dinner and slung his arm around Porthos shoulder and steering him towards the stables.

D'Artagnan looked at Athos, waiting to see if he was going to explain, but apparently he hadn't noticed her in the room as he just asked if they were going to join the others. She shrugged and nodded before turning to follow the others. She was hungry after all, and keeping an eye on Athos and Aramis might not be such a bad idea.

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Several hours later they were still in their favourite tavern and d'Artagnan was getting annoyed. Through dinner and the several rounds of drinks there had been no suggestions of any disharmony between the two musketeers, and everything seemed perfectly normal. There was no doubt in her mind now that the conversation she had witnessed had been fraught with tension of some sort, but other than an obvious desire for drunkenness on Aramis' part, nothing seemed to be untoward here at all.

"Alright d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked. "You've been scowling into your wine for a while."

"Fine," she sighed. Everyone was looking at her, so she smiled at them quickly, then made a decision. She was going to get an answer out of Athos, one way or another.

"I think I'm just ready to go," she said, not surprised when Athos immediately reached for his hat and placed it on his head. "G'night."

"Night, d'Artagnan, Athos," Porthos said, nodding at them both. Aramis grinned at them and raised his glass.

"Enjoy your evening," he said, waggling his eyebrows in much the same way she had done to Porthos earlier that day.

"Goodnight, Aramis."

Outside the tavern they walked in silence, making their way back to Athos' apartments. There was no need for discussion. Despite her suspicion that he was keeping something from her, she found herself desperate to reach out and take his hand. A wide yawn suddenly took her by surprise.

"Tired, d'Artagnan?" Athos chuckled.

"No," she said stubbornly. But she was clearly lying. With every step onwards she felt it more and more. She never slept well when they were on the road, and with Rochefort in their company for the last week she had been even more on edge than usual.

"Come on," Athos said, opening his door and stepping back to let her in first. As always the street was quiet, so there was no need to pretend she was seeing her drunken comrade home.

Inside, d'Artagnan eyed the stairs with a wary sigh then began to climb them. Athos appeared at her back, hands on her waist as he pushed her lightly to help her up to his first floor rooms. At the top of the stairs he slid one hand around her middle, the other reaching into his pocket for the key. He opened the door quickly and pushed her gently inside. Kicking her boots off, another yawn escaped.

Athos was suddenly beside her, removing her weapons and unbuckling her belt. She let her arms fall lightly to her side, letting him take over and undress her. She loved it when he did this, and he clearly enjoyed being able to take care of her in this one way she would allow. Soon she was standing in just her underwear and her bindings. He left her to go and get one of his shirts, which he slipped over her head just as she loosened the bandage and let it fall to the floor. When she was this tired he always gave her a shirt to sleep in. She brought the material to her nose, and was vaguely disappointed that it smelled entirely clean, with no hint of him.

She didn't move towards the bed as she normally did; instead she kept the shirt pressed to her face and watched him above it as he undressed in front of her. Catching her watching him, he grinned at her, but shook his head.

"Sleep for you d'Artagnan," he said, stepping out of his trousers and coming over to her to kiss her gently.

She pouted when he released her. "I wanted to talk to you."

"We can talk in the morning," he said, pushing her over to the bed and making her lie down.

"Talking is not what we'll be doing in the morning Athos," she scoffed as he climbed in beside her.

"True," he mused, curling into her and tucking her head under his chin. She mouthed a kiss onto his bare chest. "We can talk tomorrow."

She sighed happily as his warmth washed through her and a kiss was pressed into her hair. Almost immediately, she was asleep.

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Charline was absolutely right. They did not, indeed, talk in the morning. The fact they woke up with her leg wrapped over his hip, and his hand stroking her back where it had sneaked inside the shirt she wore, may have had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the fact that when they looked at each other they both remembered at the same time that they hadn't actually been alone together for over two weeks. It may even have had something to do with Charline using the leg she had hooked over Athos to push him onto his back, his fingers digging tightly into her hips as she straddled him, before they both moved their heads simultaneously so their mouths could meet in the middle.

Who knows.

But, they had no time for a conversation; they barely had time to get ready and get to the garrison on time. As it was Aramis and Porthos barely had time to try and make her blush before Treville was calling them up to his office, and informing them that they were going to be back in Rochefort's company for a while, and this time they were definitely heading right into Spain.

The day was spent making plans for breaking into the prison, with Rochefort trying to take charge and Athos giving him no leeway whatsoever. She felt a rush of pride when he shot Rochefort's claim to control down, and a few other feelings when thought back to their morning. Forcing her blush down, she made herself concentrate on what was happening, but making sure she could keep an eye on their companion at the same time.

Until he had done something to prove her wrong, she was not going to trust him. The other may claim not to trust him, but as they rarely trusted anyone that was hardly a surprise. Not that they were often wrong with their instincts, of course. But something about this guy just gave her a really bad feeling, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.

But, she said nothing. Instead she spent the day keeping watch for anything that backed up her initial feeling. Other than his smug pompousness, however, she saw nothing.

He left them in the early evening, prepared to meet them back at the barracks in the early hours of the next morning to leave for Spain. The musketeers, and d'Artagnan, sat at their table with some food, finalising their own touches to the plans.

"It seems straight forward enough," Aramis shrugged as he finished his meal.

"On the surface," said Athos. "Although I'm not entirely pleased with every part of it."

"Surprise, surprise," Porthos chuckled.

Charline was confused. Had she missed something earlier while she was watching Rochefort?

"It might not even come to that Athos," said Aramis. "It's just a contingency plan. If all goes well you can be the one to go in first, if you like."

She had definitely missed something here.

"Anyway, d'Artagnan's not worried, are you?"Aramis continued, nodding to her.

She froze. "Um..."

They all looked at her in some confusion.

"You agreed earlier," said Porthos, concerned. "If you don't think you're ready..."

"What? No! I am ready, honestly," she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Ready for what?" Porthos asked. She glanced at Aramis and Athos, but both of them had the same suspicious expressions on their faces.

"For...breaking into the Spanish prison?"

"Nice try," Aramis said dryly.

"What the hell were you doing that you missed this?" Athos asked, clearly frustrated.

"I was watching Rochefort!" she cried, holding her hands out in surrender. "I don't trust him," she muttered.

Annoyed by his obvious frustration with her, she quickly bristled and went on the attack as usual. "Anyway, it doesn't matter, Athos," she snapped. "We've had this conversation already. If I am ready to be back in the field then I am ready for whatever this job entails. You can't keep me in the background forever; people will notice that you're not letting me do anything pretty damn soon!"

"You've already been on one mission this week. I'm hardly keeping you in the background," Athos growled back at her.

"Well...good," she said, having run out of things to say. She didn't entirely know why she had snapped in the first place. He wasn't having the last word of it though. "I'm doing whatever I agreed to though," she said, pointing a finger at him. "Whether I was aware of it or not."

"Fine," he growled at her. He still was flummoxed by her temper every now and again. Which was perfectly fair, as she struggled with his sometimes too.

"You two finished yet?" Aramis drawled.

"Yes," they both said shortly, faces turned away from each other.

Aramis rolled his eyes. "Right, so the full plan is this." He then rattled through the plan they had spent the day making, enlightening d'Artagnan to the fact that she had agreed to go on ahead and break in alone if they were attacked on the road, and to kill their intended rescue if the other didn't turn up in time. She wasn't overly happy about any of it, and the latter part certainly wasn't her favourite task ever, but she was just stubborn enough to hold her facial expression perfectly still as Aramis ticked off every part of the plan.

With confirmation from everyone the whole plan was correct, Porthos and Aramis announced that they were off to catch up with a couple of ladies they had promised their time to as soon as they were available and they quickly disappeared.

Athos and Charline sat quietly for a few moments, until Charline sighed. "Come on. Let's go up to my rooms before everyone else turns up for duty change." Saying nothing else, the two of them crossed the empty yard and headed up the stairs, making their way around the balcony to the opposite end from Treville's office, and into d'Artagnan's, thankfully secluded, rooms.

Inside, d'Artagnan dumped the weapons she was carrying onto the table and stretched out on the bed with a sigh. With her eyes shut, she heard the sounds of Athos removing his outer layers and felt the bed move as he sat on the edge of it beside her. He said nothing, clearly waiting for him to speak.

"I'm fine with it," she said quietly. "Honest."

"I know," he said.

"And thank you for not asking," she added. She was grateful that he didn't patronise her and ask her if she was sure about this. A few months ago he would have asked, and she would have properly lost her temper and they would have fought for days. Not that they didn't do that anymore, they were just getting better at it. Slightly.

He lay down beside her and she curled into him. They lay in silence, hands lazily entwining as they each thought about what could happen in the next couple of weeks.

"I love you," she said softly, her heart squeezing happily when he tilted her face to his to kiss her and repeated her words back to her. Smiling at him, she cuddled back into his side and allowed herself to relax. She loved when they had evenings like this, few and far between as they were.

Eventually, she took the opportunity to have the conversation.

"Is everything alright with Aramis?" she asked quietly. Athos' free hand was lazily trailing up and down her back, and she felt it pause briefly after she spoke.

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head to look at him. "I saw the two of you, at the palace. It didn't look like you were having a nice conversation."

Athos sighed wearily, his hand leaving her back to come up and pinch the bridge of his nose. D'Artagnan propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him, concerned.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," he said. His eyes were still closed.

"Clearly," she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. With another sigh, he moved his hand away from his face and looked at her. There was definitely some sadness in his expression.

"It's nothing I can tell you about," he said. Immediately she tensed, but his eyes were pleading with her not to be upset. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

She reached down and stroked his face. "Why not?"

"It's Aramis' secret, not mine," he said. She nodded; exactly what she had expected. And perfectly valid. Then she noticed something in his eyes.

"Secrets are fair enough, Athos, but there's something else."

"It's nothing, d'Artagnan," he surprised her by swinging himself off the bed and onto his feet.

She gaped at him. "Again, clearly."

He just looked at her, giving nothing away.

"I don't want to ask you to give me his secret Athos, but you're scaring me a little."

"You can't know, alright? If I could tell you, I would. But it's dangerous," he said, and clearly regretted it instantly.

"Dangerous?" she asked, getting to her feet too. "As in he's got himself into some dangerous trouble, or it's dangerous to know about it?"

His answer told her what she needed to know.

"Don't you think you're harbouring enough dangerous secrets?" she hissed, suddenly angry.

"Plenty, yes. But I never asked for either of them," he pointed out. Charline ignored the stab of hurt, knowing he didn't mean it like that.

"And Porthos? Is he putting you in danger too, or is it just me and Aramis?"

"Charline-"

"My God, Athos..."

"Calm down!" he almost yelled at her, and she realised she had been pacing. "It is fine, alright? There is less danger than there was, as long as we carry on as normal."

She sank down on the edge of the bed, and he sat beside her.

"I won't tell you, so you're just going to have to trust me."

"I do," she said, askance.

"No, you don't," he said, holding up a hand as she started to protest. "You don't trust that I love you enough to keep myself as safe as I can. If there was real danger I would be doing more about it. I would never choose to put you through what I thought was going to happen when Anne...when Milady was finished with you."

"Athos, I know you love me."

"Yes," he sighed. "You know that. But you don't trust that it's enough, that I love you enough. Or as much as you love me."

"I do, I promise I do," she pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. She hated that dejected tone in his voice.

They sat there for several minutes, calming down and holding on to each other. Eventually she pulled back to look at him. "If I didn't trust that you loved me as much as I know you do, would I have invented myself a twin and written letters to send to Bertrand, to have him send back?"

He smiled softly at her, tucking her hair gently behind her ear. "That is true," he agreed.

"Then can we just agree that we don't like each other being in danger, and that we both love each other completely, and that we're both pretty confident about that?"

He chuckled and pulled her down with him as he lay back on the bed. "Fair enough."

"I thought we were getting better at this no fighting thing?" she said after a few minutes.

"We are," Athos said. "That has to be the shortest one ever."

She laughed. "Alright. Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

"That you'll tell me what's going on if it gets more dangerous."

He sighed. "I promise."

"Good."

She breathed in the scent of him, her face pressed into his neck once more. She kissed him gently then spoke again. "Can you promise me one more thing?"

"I can try."

"Can we make use of this bed while we still have one? And while we're still alone?"

She squealed as he moved suddenly, pinning her to the bed.

"That I think I can manage," he said, before claiming her lips and making her forget about everything that had been bothering her as they made every use of the bed they could think of, until they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep.

Athos was snoring softly within minutes of spooning in behind her, and as Charline drifted off she had just enough energy to acknowledge that as lovely as the distraction had been, she was suddenly gripped once more with anxiety. Only now she wasn't only worrying about what Rochefort was up to, but also what mess Aramis had managed to get himself, and Athos, into.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N Sorry! Sorry again! I really probably shouldn't have started this story right now, but it's too late to take it back! Updates will be ongoing, but not as quick as I would like over the next couple of weeks. They will arrive though! I promise!_

_Thank you to all of you, again, who have favourited and followed this, it means a lot! Thank you especially to Paddy and Moony's Angel, obh614, Flo (hope the date went well! Sorry I couldn't distract you...), fann, Stromberg, babygurl1944, MonkeesDoctorWho1987, Hettereid, Fangirling007, Red red red ribbon, Lyanna Arwen Narsilia and Sanna for reviewing and keeping me going. Love to you all! _

**Chapter 3**

For a terrifying moment, she wasn't sure what had woken her. Her eyes shot open and stared at the leafy branches overhead, her heart pounding in her throat. A soft noise caught her attention. She could hear the heavy breathing that meant Porthos was still asleep, and from the corner of her eye she could see the rise and fall of Aramis' chest where he lay to her right. The space on her left was empty, which meant that Athos was on watch, most likely prowling out in front of the nook they had found against a high stone wall in the woodland, trees masking them from above. She had taken the first watch duty herself, and ha spent two hours with her back to the little sheltered clearing, watching for intruders, and with one eye on the horses.

They had agreed before leaving that Rochefort would not be required to do watch duty, and if he insisted he would not do it alone. It was clear that d'Artagnan was not alone in her uneasy feeling about him.

Now, she lay silently, trying to keep her breath as steady as possible, and wondered idly if Athos had coughed in the distance, or one of the horses had whinnied, and awoken her.

A sudden rustling noise told her that she was wrong.

Slowly, she rolled her head to one side, facing the noise which has surely been a repeat of that which had awoken her. She half closed her eyes as she turned, feigning sleep but hopeful that she would glimpse the cause in the moonlight. Her eyes alighted on a hunched figure, standing as though it had just been crouched over Porthos and was now stretching to its feet.

Rochefort.

Quickly she reached out and took hold of the sword that she had kept never more than an inch from her side since he had joined them. She watched as he tiptoed quietly towards the edge of their clearing, towards the trees that separated them from where Athos would be taking watch. When the moonlight glinted off the handle of the sword he was gripping at his waist, she moved more obviously, making sure she made enough noise to capture his attention. He froze and looked over his shoulder as she rolled fully over, then sat up as if she had just seen him.

"Where are you going?" she asked calmly, whispering as he would expect her to with her friends nearby.

"I woke up because of some noise or other, so I thought I'd check on Athos, and offer to take over if he is tired."

He's always so smooth, she thought. Even when he's questioned like this he can answer steadily, and like he's doing you a favour in deigning to give you a response. Aloud she said: "No need. It's Aramis' watch now anyway."

Without taking her eyes off of Rochefort, who also didn't move, she reached out a hand and shook Aramis awake.

Blearily, he asked what she wanted.

"Watch time," she replied. Aramis blinked at her for a few seconds, then was on his feet, instantly alert as he strapped on his weapons and headed out. He was unruffled by the sight of Rochefort standing at the edge of the clearing, clasping him on the shoulder as he went by with the offer to join him if he was awake anyway.

Stuck, Rochefort shrugged and followed Aramis.

Whatever he had been planning, if her suspicions were indeed in any way correct, he could do nothing now that she knew he was with Aramis. If something happened to their guard something would happen to him too, and she didn't think suicide was part of any of the plans she was convinced he was hiding.

She lay back down quietly, waiting for the sounds of Athos leaving his post and heading back to camp, which she was rewarded with just a couple of minutes later. She watched as he walked over to her. He glanced down at her and, seeing she was still awake, he smiled gently at her before stepping over her to stretch out beside her for a moment.

"I'll go and sleep beside Porthos," he whispered as he took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together.

"Alright," she sighed quietly. This was the most intimately they had touched since setting out on their journey several days before. With Rochefort in their company they had to be extremely careful, and Charline had found that despite the fact that they were together all day, she was beginning to miss Athos terribly.

He squeezed her hand then raised it quickly to his mouth to brush a kiss over her knuckles. She relaxed a little, sensing that he was struggling similarly.

Moments later, he squeezed her hand once more before moving as if to sit up. She stopped him by squeezing tightly.

"Wait," she whispered. "Rochefort... he was, well he was up to something. He was sneaking around and he woke me up."

Athos ruend his head to her and frowned. "Did you ask him what he was doing?"

"Yes, he said he heard a noise and he was going to check on you," she admitted.

"And you don't believe him?"

"Not entirely, no. I can't really explain why, just something about him. I mean, why not wake anyone else to check with him?"

"Maybe he didn't want to wake anyone unnecessarily?"

D'Artagnan muttered, annoyed. "I know you don't entirely trust him either."

"No, I don't. But until he does something to change it, we have to. We have to trust his information, and he have to trust his actions."

"I know," she sighed.

"I better move," Athos said, darting his head forward to kiss her temple quickly.

"I'm going to keep watching him," she warned as Athos pulled himself to his feet.

"Good," he grinned at her. "Your stubbornness is what I keep you around for."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered at him before curling onto her side with her blanket pulled up over her ears. She smiled as she heard the muffled sound of his quiet laughter.

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"Go ahead, to the castle," Athos said to her fiercely. She had only a moment to look at him sadly before she obeyed, steering her horse in towards the steep slope and scrambling up it, riding away quickly. The sound of gunfire brought her to a momentary stop, but her sense of duty overtook her frantic heart and she rode on, trying to shut out the shouting and firing behind her.

They would be fine; they always were.

It took her only half an hour to reach the moat that surrounded the prison. Keeping to the trees, she dismounted and crept to the edge of the woodland, sending up a quick prayer for the safety of her musketeers before concentrating on the scene in front of her and looking for the way in that Rochefort had mentioned. She could see no portcullis in the water. Keeping one eye on the few guards she cold see, she crept around the edge of the moat, sticking carefully to the shadows of the woodland. Eventually, she saw it. The top of the grate was in the wall of the castle, the water covering most of it, she presumed. A quick look up told her that there was no guard watching this side of the building, so she took her opportunity and dove into the water.

The cold hit her instantly, but a youth spent swimming in the stream on the farm during the rainy seasons had hardened her body to the shock and she ignored it as she swam deftly across the moat, rising minimally above the water for breaths. Within what felt like moments she was there, gripping onto the grate, which on closer inspection was only a short opening into the castle. She stayed there for a few moments, gathering her breath, and resolutely not allowing herself to think about what had happened back in the forest, where she had been forced to leave Athos, Aramis, Porthos and Rochefort to their attackers.

"Please, God," she whispered. "Keep them safe."

She shook her head, banishing them more successfully this time, and took a deep breath then slid under the water, ducking under the short portcullis and into the tunnel behind it. Inside, she opened her eyes and saw light ahead of her. Rising to the top, she found a small opening of air between the roof and the water and rested there for a few moments, taking deep breaths. Finally, she dove under again, and into a tunnel that would have no space for breathing. At the end, she found her way blocked by a metal grate and quickly unsheathed her knife to help her break it free. Luckily, the water had done its job and weakened the metal enough that after a few moments it gave way.

Her lungs bursting with desperation, she swam quickly to the patch of light ahead of her, lying on top of the water. Bursting through the spotlight, she heaved in mouthfuls of air as she found herself at the base of the well that Rochefort had rightly told her would be here. Looking above her, her eyes widened at the height of the sheer wall she was going to have to climb, using every bit of strength she could muster. She only allowed herself to rest for a few moments before she started the painful climb to the top, hampered briefly by the bucket that chased her up the well and flattened her against the wall, and the unsuspecting servant who she met at the top.

For once, she cursed being the smallest of them all. That was what had got her into this mess of breaking in alone in the first place.

"Next time," she muttered as she heaved the unconscious servant over her shoulder and dragged him across the courtyard as quickly as possible, "We find a bigger well and Porthos can bloody do it."

She managed to haul the man into a chamber that was clearly some sort of personal room. Once there she debated quickly with herself whether she should steal the man's clothes, but while she was still debating the door opened and a woman walked through it and headed for the bath that d'Artagnan hadn't even noticed on her weighed down entrance into the room. Peering through the wooden screen that divided the room, she felt surging panic. Who was this woman? Her mouth dropped as the woman stripped off to just her long underwear, and she quickly stepped out and spoke softly with her hands raised in a gesture of peace as she gave the poor woman a heart attack.

Twenty minutes later, d'Artagnan had managed to calm down what turned out to be their target's sister, kept her secret intact, disguised as a guard and been brought into the presence of General De Foix and explained her presence there in his prison. Now, they waited.

Charline was positive the general knew exactly what her instructions were if help did not arrive soon, but she had a feeling that Lucie was not entirely aware of what may happen. The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slowly and beads of sweat began to break out like beads of misery on d'Artagnan's neck as she realised the time was coming when she would have to act.

Her misery was accelerated when noise was heard outside and she finally stood to face De Foix, but as expected he reacted with grace, and stopped his sister when she objected, loudly. Charline aimed her pistol and took a deep breath.

Never had she been so glad to see Porthos' lovely face as he burst through the door a moment later, a pistol in each hand, and a large grin on his face when he saw her.

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Charline was almost asleep at the reins when they rode into the barracks days later. The exhilaration of their escape from the prison, the horror of standing on one side of the ravine watching Athos get shot at with only Rochefort to back him up, the dismay at watching General De Foix slowly weaken after being shot, all of it had brought her quickly to exhaustion as they made their way home, and after riding with minimal stops all the way back to Paris, she was in desperate need of a bath, some proper food, and the longest sleep she could manage. Preferably squeezed as tightly to Athos as she could get.

But she couldn't be selfish. As soon as they entered the yard, she jumped down from her horse, helping Lucie down after her and quickly letting go. She was pretty much convinced that the woman had taken a bit of a liking to her, which made her a tad uncomfortable, and Porthos and Aramis more than a tad amused. Leaving Lucie, she watched the captain greet his old friend then followed the procession that took him up the stairs to the medical room. As Aramis and Porthos took him inside, she felt a touch on her arm and turned to see Athos following the captain to his office. She took the hint and followed, closing the door behind her.

Quickly, they filled Treville in on everything that happened, taking advantage of Rochefort's absence as he had ridden on to his apartment to 'clean up and rest' Such were the advantages of not being a musketeer.

Treville was clearly interested in the fact they had been attacked by a random party who just happened to meet them, and he was clearly angry at Rochefort's killing of their captive. He was fidgety though, and Charline could clearly see that he was worried for the general. He asked for no extended explanations of anything, or any opinions of anything that had happened. Instead he thanked them for the recount, told them they would all be reporting to the palace that evening, and swept from the room.

As soon as the door closed, Athos' arm stretched around d'Artagnan's shoulder and pulled her round and into him. She sighed as his arms came around her and her nose tucked itself into his neck. She resisted the temptation to slump in his arms and make her carry her full weight.

"You should get some sleep," he murmured into her hair.

"Just me?" she asked.

"We're all tired, and we will all sleep, but your suspicions of Rochefort have had you more on edge than usual, and you haven't slept properly for two weeks."

"Can I just stay here?" she mumbled, smiling when she felt him vibrate with chuckles.

"Not if you don't want dropped to the ground before long. I may not have time for sleep, but I am rather tired."

She pulled away with a huff and tried to scowl at him, but it turned quickly into a yawn. He laughed softly at her, pulling her in gently to kiss her.

"Bed," he ordered. "I'll come and get you as soon as anything happens."

"No-"

"No more than an hour," he interrupted her, knowing fine well what she was about to demand.

Rolling her eyes at him, she gave into the temptation and took the offer of rest. She really hadn't slept much, with one eye on Rochefort practically all the time. He followed her out of the office and stopped at the top of the stairs as she walked past them towards her room. She turned to smile at him as she reached the corner, then heard his footsteps going down the stairs as she entered. Deciding that sleep would come before cleaning up, she flopped straight onto the bed and was asleep in minutes.

She woke with a start. Not fear this time, but with the sudden knowledge of someone who had slept longer than they planned to. Somehow, she knew that she had slept longer than she had been promised, and at least two hours had passed. Scrambling from the bed, she shrugged off her disgusting clothes and used the horrendously cold water in the wash bowl in her room to wipe of as much of the grime as she could. The only time she slowed down in her rapid ablutions and dressing was to fasten some clean bindings around her breasts. She could never be too careful about that.

Throwing open the door, she had proof that her instincts were correct. The sun had moved enough in the sky that she had been asleep for as much as two hours. She was going to kill Athos!

Approximately five seconds later, her anger at being allowed to oversleep had evaporated. She stepped out onto the balcony to make her way down to the yard, and within a few steps she had frozen.

This was an entirely new feeling to her. Never before had she felt this mix of horror, humiliation, fury and shock. She was scared, embarrassed, powerless. She wanted to kill something, everything. She wanted to kill herself briefly, then she wanted to kill _them_. Then she was mortified to realise that she had completely got things wrong.

For there, in front of her, half way down the steps into the yard, Lucie De Foix had her arms around Athos' neck, and her lips pressed firmly against his.

_A/N I know, I know. I've done it again! _

_Moving forward with episodes in the next chapter. _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N Thanks for the appreciation guys! I really appreciate the reviews, the favourites etc. I think, for the moment, to avoid having several weeks between chapters I'm going to have to go a little shorter and more often, so this chapter is a little bit shorter than my usual, although it is still 2500 words long, so not too bad!_

_Let me know what you think! _

_B xx_

**Chapter 4**

Her body ordered a hasty retreat, but her feet wouldn't obey. Her heart ordered her to start screaming, in anger or in pain, but her mouth was not co-operating. Instead she stood, for what must have only been a second, taking in the horror in front of her, of Lucie, pressed tightly against Athos. She watched has his hands came up to grip Lucie's shoulders and she moved away from him. From this distance, d'Artagnan couldn't work out what was being said, but she could see that Athos was speaking quietly to Lucie, who nodded after a moment, then stepped past him to enter the room where her brother lay in his sick bed.

Suddenly free of her inability to move, she moved to take a step forward, but paused again as Athos turned to go down the steps and froze himself. Confusion swept over her for only a moment before she heard the icy tones of Constance, demanding that he tell her how the general was, so that she might pass the information on to their queen. Athos answered her in his own clipped tones, making no effort to explain himself to what was evidently a furious Constance, and Charline felt her heart break just a little. It had been a long time since he had made her feel this way.

Staying in the shadows of her vantage point, she heard the angry footsteps of Constance stalking back out of the yard, and watched Athos' head droop to his chest in defeat. He stayed there for a moment before making his way down the stairs, calling for Aramis and Porthos as he went. Still d'Artagnan waited in the shadows, bravely fighting the tears that were threatening to choke her.

She should ask him about it; there must be a perfectly simple explanation to what she had witnessed. Yet somehow she couldn't bear to ask. How cowardly could she get? But there was that little voice in the back of her head that pointed out to her Lucie's obvious beauty, of the simplicity of a life with someone like her, rather than hiding a relationship with a stubborn woman who pretended to be a boy so that she might fight and battle for her country alongside him. Perhaps he had been tempted for a moment, however much he professed to love her. However much she believed that he might.

Lurching forwards, she rested her hands on the wooden railing that ran along the balcony. Breathing deeply, she forced the negative thoughts back, urging the confidence she had in Athos to come forth, but it was a difficult battle.

"D'Artagnan? Is that you?"

Dammit. She froze as Porthos called for her. She had forgotten that her hands on the balcony would be seen, if not the shadow of her looming above them. To her shame, she panicked. She didn't want to go down there as they would know instantly that something was wrong. She didn't want to face Athos until she had more control over her thoughts. Taking a step back, she sharply pulled her hands away from the banister.

"D'Artagnan? Are you coming down?"

Shut up Porthos! She wanted to scream. She had no idea if Athos was still in the yard, and drawing attention to her present position was not helping her warring emotions. Seconds later, the batter of boots on the stairs told her that indeed Athos had been in the yard – and he knew exactly why she hasn't come down.

Moving quickly, Charline opened the door to her rooms and slipped back inside. She paced for a few seconds, trying to decide which emotion she would lead their discussion with. When he opened the door and stepped through it, a frown crossing his brow, she had a clear winner.

Fury.

"Don't even start," she hissed as he began to speak. "I am so angry at you Athos, and I can't even shout at your properly in case someone might hear us!"

"I take it you saw Lucie kiss me?" he asked infuriatingly calmly.

"What I _saw_," she growled. "Was her pressed up against you and your lips pressed _together_."

"And did you see me push her away?"

"I didn't see you push anyone, Athos. I saw you kissing, each other."

"No, d'Artagnan. What you saw was Lucie kiss me. She must have kissed me just as you saw, because our lips touched for about two seconds before I pushed her away."

He was still being far too calm, and horrendously reasonable. It made Charline want to unleash her full temper and scream at him.

"Is this what I am to expect Athos? Is this your way of hiding me?"

She knew she was being altogether ridiculous. Even before they had fallen in love Athos had hardly been a womaniser. It still hurt.

Athos dropped his chin to his chest with a sigh. "D'Artagnan," he said. "I cannot do anything about the fact that she kissed me. I didn't encourage her, I didn't respond. All I did was push her away and apologise for anything I had done that made her think that I was interested."

Charline glared at him, but she had nothing to accuse him of. She had thought that Lucie had taken a liking to _her_, after all.

"Then I told her that I was not available to her, or anyone, and she smiled at me and went to see her ailing brother."

The fact that he had told Lucie that he was not available, that he had insinuated that Charline existed, stopped her for a moment. She could see that he was telling the truth.

"Can we be done with this now, please?" Athos asked, working hard to keep his exasperation out of his tone.

Being reasonable when she was hurt was clearly still not a skill that d'Artagnan possessed. Half of her wanted to tell him that she believed him, that she loved him, and move on. The other half of her was still furious that he had even let Lucie get close enough to him to kiss him in the first place.

Athos stared at her in her silence. She could see his own anger and frustration at her mistrust growing. After several moments with neither of them moving or speaking, he finally narrowed his eyes at her.

"I came up here to check that you were alright, having seen something that must have hurt you. I understand that. I have been there before, if you will remember."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his reference to Alain, as her would-be fiancé had never been mentioned since Lupiac by either of them.

"I have explained what happened, I have apologised..."

"No, you haven't!" she snapped.

"I would have if you had been at all reasonable with me, d'Artagnan," he growled back. "I can explain nothing else to you, and I refuse to waste my time talking to you until you willing to listen."

With his speech finished, he turned on his heel and swept out of the room, leaving her gaping after him. How dare he? How dare he be angry with her?

She ignored the part of her brain that was telling her that her stubbornness had yet again expanded their rift into something entirely new. After all, she was absolutely stubborn enough to keep hold of her anger until he was ready to actually apologise.

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Early evening found them at the palace as planned, listening to the King praise the actions of Rochefort, and ignore entirely any actions on the part of the musketeers in retrieving General de Foix. D'Artagnan could feel Porthos' irritation radiating from him, and all of them stiffened in various levels of horror when the King announce that Rochefort would be the new captain of the red guards.

Charline tried to ignore the sick feeling that coursed through her at the announcement. She managed it almost as well as she had ignored Athos in the last two hours. Arami and Porthos must have been filled in by Athos, as they wisely were keeping out of things, for once.

D'Artagnan felt slightly heartened by the presence of Constance in the chamber, who was sparing a lot of energy to glare at Athos like she would murder him if she was free to. Charline had no way of knowing if he was aware of the ill-feeling being directed at him, as she had fallen into place in the chamber between Porthos and Aramis to avoid him, and he had taken things one step further by standing on the opposite side of the room from all of them, beside Treville.

On their dismissal from the room, Porthos began to grumble about the lack of appreciation they got from the King. Aramis pointed out that they never got any appreciation, and then walked ahead of them quickly before either of them had a chance to respond.

"Where is he going?" Porthos asked.

"No idea," she replied truthfully, but she had a horrible feeling that it was something do with whatever secret he and Athos shared. She wanted to glance over at Athos to see if he had noticed Aramis' exit, but she stopped herself.

"He hasn't said anything about any of the palace ladies, has he?" Porthos wondered.

"Not to me," d'Artagnan shrugged.

They walked in silence outside to find their horses, then waited patiently for the others to arrive. They had several minutes. Charline could tell that Porthos was desperate to say something to her about the events of the afternoon, but thankfully he kept his thoughts to himself and allowed her to ignore him and move around the horses, tightening tackle that was perfectly fine.

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"I can't actually believe that we are having to do this," Porthos murmured to her as he appeared at her side.

"I hate that feeling that everything is about to go hideously wrong," Charline replied drily. Porthos chuckled and joined her for a moment in her watch across the tavern, every now and again returning their attention to the figure of Louis XIII of France as he got drunk and played cards as part of his much looked forward to 'night as a commoner'.

"The captain will kill us," she continued.

"Most likely, but I can think of worse ways to go," he grinned at her then made his way back to the card table, taking his seat beside the King again.

When the fight broke out, d'Artagnan was ashamed to realise she had been taken by surprise. She had allowed herself to get distracted watching Athos hovering in the shadows beside or behind the King. It had been over a week since Lucie, since the rift that opened up between them like a chasm the size of the canyon they had fled over in Spain, and they still were not really speaking. They were civil and professional, but she was still stubbornly refusing to accept his explanation, and he was too damn proud to try again. So instead they had reverted back to the frostiness that had existed between them some months ago; it was almost like she had told him the truth about her sex all over again.

Today she had begun to regret her attitude. She had awoken that morning from a very happy dream, and had instantly bereft to open her eyes and find herself in her room at the barracks, alone as she had been since this had all happened. She had gone down to breakfast with an empty heart, that had started beating hard when she spotted Athos seated at the table, talking with Bernajoux, an ageing musketeer. She had slid quietly into her seat, murmuring a greeting to both of them, and sat quietly, watching Athos has he conversed easily with his old comrade. Once he glanced in her direction long enough to make eye contact, but she wasn't quick enough to make herself react and she had seen a flash of sadness in his eyes and turned away again.

For the rest of the day she had been kicking herself for not smiling at him - for not doing _something_ - and she hadn't been able to get him alone to speak to him. Stubbornness be damned; she missed him.

And so now, when the shouting started and there was a sudden flurry of movement, she found herself a few seconds behind and heard her name being shouted across the tavern. Quickly she fought her way through the building melee and found herself with an armful of King, who she quickly dragged over to the bewildered-looking innkeeper.

"Gus, is there another way out?" she asked frantically, holding tightly onto the King's jacket as he tried to squirm round to get a better view in his horrified fascination of his first bar fight.

She was acutely aware of Athos' presence at her back, as he and Porthos took on the angry patrons.

"The back door," Gus said eagerly. "This way."

The man disappeared quickly into a room behind the bar, but Charline hesitated before she followed him, seeking out Athos to communicate her intentions. She caught his eye quickly and he nodded at her, a gesture she returned with a sad smile before she turned her attention back to her King.

"Come on," she growled at him, pulling him towards the door. "Before they kill you!"

Evidently she had said the magic words as Louis suddenly focused and moved quickly with her. Gus shut the door behind them and crossed the storage room they found themselves in to open the one at the other end.

"Out here," he said. "Quickly."

D'Artagnan led the way, sword drawn, with the King close to her back. The door shut behind them and d'Artagnan spun round, surprised to find that Gus had gone back inside, and more so to find that there was no handle on this side of the door. With one arm she pushed the King against the wall, stretching her sword out with the other as she slowly looked around to see what their exit options were. They appeared to be in an alley that was entirely closed off at one end, leaving only one option available to them.

"Should we wait here?" the King asked. "For the others."

"Hold on, sire," she whispered, the last word especially quiet. "Something isn't quite right."

Just moments after she had spoken, there was movement in the darkness and four bodies emerged out of the darkness, approaching them from the open end of the alley.

"Get behind me, quickly," she whispered urgently, crouching into a fighting stance at the same time that she acknowledged to herself that she had no chance of coming out of this on top.

She gave it a good shot though, her sword making contact with at least two of their assailants before she noticed that the other two had taken hold of Louis. She lowered her sword and reached out a hand.

"Wait, please..."

The blow to the back of her head registered briefly, giving her enough time to think that things couldn't possibly get any worse, before everything inevitably went black.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Sorry, again! I've been ill so it's been a bit difficult. Thank you so much for all your kind comments! You've kept me typing when I could find the strength, so thanks so much._

**Chapter 5**

What was that she had thought about things not getting any worse? Not much less than two days ago d'Artagnan had been starting to believe that the most difficult thing about this whole episode was listening to the King prattling on, and trying to stop him putting his foolish ideas, like telling their captors who he really was, into motion. She had even lost a little of her concern about her secret being discovered for the moment, as it appeared that no one was going to come close enough to her to find anything out, and the King of course paid little attention to anyone but himself.

He had managed to redeem himself a little in her eyes when he finally spoke to her like he was a normal man; scared of living up to his position, scared of being a proper father to his son. For a moment he was human and, as well as the unyielding loyalty she felt towards him as King, she realised that she actually liked him as a person.

After this, she had stupidly thought that as they were sure to be rescued, if she could just keep the King calm until that time then she would be as safe as she could be in the present circumstances. If they got as far as the ships they were being enslaved to then her secret wouldn't much matter. Either way, she was in for a lot of pain and an unpleasant death.

Except that now, on feeling someone hovering over her in her dozing sleep, she had reached up a hand to snatch the wrist of her viewer and snapped her eyes open to find those of Milady de Winter gazing back at her with a pistol in her hand which was aimed at d'Artagnan's face.

There wasn't even time for her to process the emotions that rammed into her all at once before the spectre before her spoke, quickly and quietly.

"Why, little d'Artagnan," a hint of a smile played around her lips. "How unfortunate."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Charline managed to spit back. "You're supposed to be..."

"In England?" this time the smile was real. "Yes, I know. Rather dreary though, don't you think? Haven't you learned by now, that I can get myself out of anything?"

"Apparently so," d'Artagnan's hand automatically reached for the hilt of her sword, even though it had obviously been removed from her at a much earlier time.

"Ah, ah, ah," Milady admonished gently. "None of that my dear. Now here I am trying to help you, and your first instinct is to kill me? I'm hurt."

D'Artagnan stared at her in horror. There was no continuance of this situation that she could see that was going to end well.

"What do you want?"

"To help you, didn't I just say that?"

"And why would you want to help me? Last time we met your hatred for me was fairly clear. You did try to kill me after all," she whispered fiercely.

"Now, now," Milady said, stepping back a little and allowing d'Artagnan to sit up and lean against the tree she had been curled against. Sitting here, with her hands restrained, was bringing back horrifying memories as she looked into the cold, beautiful face of Athos' wife. "You must understand, d'Artagnan, that at that time I was distressed at the behaviour of my patron, and I admit I may have overreacted."

Charline snorted. "You mean you pissed off the Cardinal and he didn't like it, so you took it out on me."

"I am so glad that you understand. Now we must think of a way of getting you, and your friend, free." Milady's face was all innocence and concern.

So that was it. For a few minutes, being confronted by the prospect of Milady back in her life had made d'Artganan forget that she was currently tied to their King. Of course Milady had recognised him, and could probably see a million advantages to getting on his good side. So much for helping d'Artagnan. She wouldn't be at all surprised to find a knife in her back at a later point.

"After all," Milady continued. "We wouldn't want anyone finding out your little secret, would we?"

At Charline's disbelieving raised eyebrow the mad woman continued. "What would happen to our darling Athos then, hmm?"

Charline went cold. Milady had no reason to keep her secret; but she evidently thought she may have a reason to use it at some point - as a weapon against Athos. Since being taken she had been trying hard not to think of him too often, but this confrontation was threatening to bring back all of the feelings of loss and pain that she had been fighting down. She squared her shoulders against the tree trunk.

"I wouldn't be so sure that people would believe the word of a murderer, Milady de Winter," d'Artagnan scoffed. "And you have the marks to prove your past. I think it would be easier to display them than to persuade anyone they needed to strip search a musketeer."

"Oh, have you become a musketeer? How nice for you," she laughed as Charline's face reddened slightly. "Ah now, let's not quarrel, darling. Let's just agree for now that I'll keep your secret, and you will keep mine? I rather like France you know, I would rather stay here."

The King stirred behind Charline, finally woken by the quiet conversation next to him. Milady was looking at her, her eyes open and clear. She wasn't hiding anything, for now. With no other option, Charline nodded, and Milady immediately sprung into action and transformed herself into some sort of concerned citizen; a victim herself, who would do everything she could to help. It was all d'Artagnan could do to stop herself rolling her eyes at her.

The following hours proved to Charline fairly quickly that Milady was indeed out for her own ends. After their brief escape, once back in the possession of their captors it was clear that Milady had been travelling with this group of snatchers for some time, probably since bribing whoever was supposed to be taking her out of France, but she was quick to turn on them when the King started to show gratitude for her help.

A shoot out with another group of bandits found Charline and the King fighting side by side, then rescued once again by a smiling Milady. There was absolutely nothing within d'Artagnan that would allow her to thank the woman, but by the way the King was becoming clearly more and more enamoured with her, d'Artagnan's own thanks would not be necessary. Yet again, she had a very bad feeling about what was happening in front of her, and with absolutely no power to stop it.

Their 'rescue' gave them a brief respite in the woods, but it was all too soon before the sound of galloping hooves invaded the air around them and Charline found herself having to trust a simpering Milady alone with the King, as she made them hide and advanced into the road to meet whoever was coming for them this time.

Her knees almost buckled as she spotted the figures rising towards her, instantly recognising the proud seat of Athos as he led the group. A sob almost escaped her throat as she staggered into the road in front of them, her eyes never leaving Athos so that she saw the instant that he spotted her, his pale and drawn face lighting up for a moment then frowning with worry as he took in her bedraggled state. He threw himself from his horse and strode towards her in the seconds it took for Aramis and Porthos to catch up, along with another man she couldn't even be bothered to look at to check if she recognised.

As Athos approached her his arms opened and she allowed herself to fall into them. She was aware of Porthos striding past them, evidently to look for the King so that they could have a moment without him interrupting, while Aramis kept their prisoner under the aim of his pistol.

Athos had one hand pressed to her back, pulling her towards him so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn't care. The other was resting on the back of her head, pulling her face tightly into his shoulder as he bent slightly to bury his face in her hair. With others nearby they couldn't hold their stance, and with a reluctance she had never experienced before, d'Artagnan stepped back from his arms and looked at him. She just had enough time to register the pain in his eyes before footsteps behind her made her turn to see Porthos emerging from the sparse shelter of the trees, his face cold with fury as he led a happy King and a smug Milady behind him.

Charline felt Athos tense instantly beside her and she expected him to explode at any moment, but when she glanced at his face he remained calm and in control, not batting an eyelid as the King began to praise Milady to the skies, speaking of her bravery in rescuing them, and making a fool of himself in front of people who knew her for what she really was. She nearly choked when he announced that her rescue of them was enough to pardon her for all crimes in her past. Athos quickly strode away over to his horse, unable to watch the events unfolding. Aramis began to speak, but Athos quickly interrupted him as the sound of horses in the distance reached their ears, still facing away from them, and instructed Porthos to accompany the King and 'the lady' back to Paris, telling d'Artagnan to go with them.

She refused. One glance at her face was evidently enough to tell Athos that she was not going to be persuaded, and he let it drop. Porthos approached them, stepping away from the King and Milady, who immediately began to speak quietly to each other.

"Are you insane," Porthos hissed. "Why am I bringing her safely back to the city we banished her from?"

"Because we can do nothing about it," Athos said calmly.

"We could at least try," Porthos snapped back. Charline found herself agreeing, and her frustration building. Was he going to do nothing to get rid of her? His continued calmness was beginning to annoy her too.

"She knows d'Artagnan's secret, Porthos," he pointed out. "We cannot afford to antagonise her just now."

Aramis was straining to hear from the outskirts of their conversation, his pistol still trained on their prisoner.

"And I were to..."

"Porthos!" Athos finally snapped. "The King has just pardoned her for all of her crimes. If she accuses d'Artagnan just now we are finished. Go with them, and make sure she keeps her mouth shut."

Porthos was clearly still not satisfied but the horses were approaching now, and he quickly mounted, calling on the King and Milady to follow suit. As they were leaving the King turned and offered their prisoner, who d'Aartgnan finally recognised as the relative of their captor who had turned up earlier, clemency of his own if he would fight at the side of his musketeers. As the man eagerly accepted and Aramis reluctantly cut free his hands, d'Artagnan couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be another mistake on Louis' part, or if the man would actually help them. She had little time to question it Athos gruffly ordered her and Aramis to conceal themselves round the side of a large rock wall, while he and Lemaitre hid amongst the trees at the side of the road.

Aramis appeared to want to have a casual chat during the ensuing battle.

"If you get kidnapped again, d'Artagnan," he said, leaning around her to fire a shot. "When we find you, I will kill you myself."

"Sorry?" Charline gaped at him.

"Or if you do anything else that leaves me with an Athos in that kind of state again," he finished, raising a telling eyebrow at her.

"Oh," she said. "He wasn't very happy then?"

This time she leaned around to take a shot.

"To say the least," Aramis replied dryly, firing another shot quickly. "Do you remember when Porthos lost his hat?"

"You mean when you stole his hat?"

"Semantics," he said dismissively, waving a hand. They both leaned around to fire shots, then everything went quiet. "You remember though? You remember how temperamental he was? How morose? How much everyone avoided him because they were scared he would growl at them?"

"Yes," she said, smiling at his exaggerated comparison.

"Like that, but if I'd stolen his favourite boots too."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

She chuckled, but stopped when a voice called from the distance.

"Wait, is that..." she stared at Aramis, her eyes opening in shock as she recognised the voice. Aramis nodded at her. "Gus? Gus did this?"

"He's been doing it for years apparently."

"They've had enough," Athos called over, and true enough when Charline listened she could hear the sound of a quick retreat. She heard Gus shout at his retreating men, and another gun shot as he took out his frustration on them.

Aramis stepped out from behind the rock, followed by Charline, while Athos and Bruno emerged from the trees. Aramis raised his gun to shoot Gus, who was shouting at them with his sword raised, but Charline put out a hand to stop him, lowering the weapon as she announced that she would deal with Gus herself. She stepped over towards Athos, letting her anger wash through her as she thought about the men who had died needlessly that afternoon, and the many men who must have been taken before and used as slaves. This man, this animal, was responsible for all of it, and if he was going to die, then she was going to kill him.

Athos raised a teasing eyebrow as she reached him and pulled his scarf sharply from his neck. She felt a shiver go through her at the look in his eyes, but she pushed the feeling away, concentrating fully on the loathing that sharpened further when she turned and walked slowly towards a still-shouting Gus, wrapping the material tightly round her hand as she did. Gus kicked his horse into a gallop, sword still raised towards her. Charline continued walking calmly towards him, reaching up as he approached her and with all her strength pulled him from the animal's back with her hand tightly gripping the blade of the sword, protected by Athos' scarf. As he landed on the ground beside her she twisted round and thrust the sword deep into his abdomen, then stood swiftly and walked away. She said nothing to him the entire time.

Athos was still standing where she had left him, watching her with a strange mixture of pride and concern. Reaching him, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and let him soothe her, to hold him and kiss him like she had been dreaming of doing since she had been taken, or since their argument if she was honest with herself. An argument that she now saw had been unnecessarily lengthened by the combination of both of their stubborn natures. She had regretted it before being taken, but in the last few days when she had thought she may never see him again she had been devastated by the thought that things had not been right between them when they parted. She wanted to move them beyond it, right now, but she couldn't. There was still a stranger amongst them.

Clearly Athos read the weariness and turmoil on her face, as he took the situation in hand at once.

"Aramis, take Bruno and head back towards Paris. D'Artagnan and I will go to the camp and clear everything up there and then follow." His eyes never left her face the whole time that he spoke.

"Of course," was all that Aramis said in reply, and in a few moments both he and Bruno had left the clearing and were on their way.

As soon as the hoof beats had faded away, Athos reached out and pulled d'Artagnan to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her and catching her as her knees gave way and she began to sob. He slowly lowered them both to the ground, until he was kneeling down and she was clutched to his chest, her arms winding round his neck as she pressed her face tightly against his.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered against him.

He pulled back from her and looked at her in surprise. "d'Artagnan?"

"I never wanted to push you away, I didn't," she was babbling now, but she couldn't control the emotions running through her, but she was aware that relief was the strongest of them all. She took his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumbs. "I love you. I thought I wasn't going to see you again."

He had tears in his eyes to match hers as he leaned forward and pressed their lips together, their mouths opening as they deepened the kiss simultaneously. They kissed frantically and with a great need to know that the other was there, and that the love they felt was known.

"Never again," he whispered fiercely as they pulled away with gasping breaths. "I'll never let you down again, Charline, I swear."

"Shh," she whispered back, a tear trickling down her cheek when she saw how devastated he was. "It's not your fault."

"It's my job to protect you," he shook his head, pulling her against him once more so that she leaned against his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. "I lost you. We had to go to see Poupart...I've never felt like that, ever. I can't do that again, I can't."

She shushed him again, and this time he stopped talking. She tightened her arms around him, shifting to get comfortable. It mattered not that they were in a clearing in the middle of nowhere, with Gus' dead body lying beside them, or that they had to get back to Paris and back to the palace, that they should be following the others and trying to catch up with Porthos, the King and Milady. What mattered was that they were together, and they had a moment to be alone. D'Artagnan found herself thinking that she could happily stay in this spot, and in his arms, forever.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Always."

She felt a kiss pressed to the top of her head, and closed her eyes, with the first proper smile on her face for days.

They would deal with Milady later. They would have to.

_A/N This was quite a tough chapter to write, so hopefully it has worked! I missed out a few elements from the episode, as they were quite difficult to incorporate with Charline, but then it is my own little world, isn't it? I hope you enjoyed._


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